


One Shot For My Enemies

by rhiisu



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gun Violence, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Penis In Vagina Sex, Threats of Violence, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000, Wordcount: Under 10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 18:30:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21432772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiisu/pseuds/rhiisu
Summary: “You see, all these inconveniencing barges of my convoys has made my personal time very sparse, which means I can’t attend to certain urges I might have at the end of the day. You seem like you really could help me out with that. I could even offer you the best prize of all if you agree: your life. How's about it, doll?”
Relationships: Handsome Jack (Borderlands)/Original Character(s), Handsome Jack (Borderlands)/Original Female Character(s), Handsome Jack (Borderlands)/Other(s)
Kudos: 7





	One Shot For My Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> Original character (Annabelle) belongs to MekaCandy on Twitter.
> 
> It's been a while since I last wrote anything for original characters. Please enjoy.

After the _ third _ attack on Hyperion convoys in little over a week, Handsome Jack had plenty of pent up frustration to take out. The first was not detrimental to their means—the rats had fled the moment Hyperion snapped back. But the second had caused enough financial damage to properly piss him off, so the news of a third? Certainly not welcomed; despite this, when he received a call alerting him to the capture of the latest group of rebellious bandits, Jack hid a grin behind his fist, thumb firmly pressed against the pen he had been using to file some overdue paperwork.

“What room are they held in?”

“U-uh, sir?” Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly at the thin man trying his best to appear unaffected by being in the presence of Hyperion's president. “I– well, they’re in the 37th skag containment, since—,”

“Out.”

The bundle of nerves for a man faltered, his face paling at the sudden, punctual demand. He wasn't sure he understood. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Did I stutter? Get out,” Jack was losing patience at an alarming rate, so it was only a natural reaction for him when the polished submachine gun seemingly appeared out of nowhere, hanging haphazardly from the CEO’s forefinger. “Before I make you get out, and not in the state I assume you want to leave this office. ‘Kay?”

If it was possible for the soldier to lose any more color, he did, but only as he stumbled backward and fled from the room, not risking a second glance over his shoulder as the sound of Jack’s gun knocking against the polished desk rang in his ears.

≡

Jack straightened up, heterochromatic eyes glossing over the mangled sign that said “SKAG CONTAINMENT” just down the dim hallway. He wasn’t sure why these prisoners were being held here, but he wasn’t going to try and pick apart the pea brains of his soldiers for the answer—that usually ended with someone dying, and Jack had learned it was just easier to let those trivial questions slide.

Making his arrival known, the heavy door was opened ceremoniously for Jack, then closed securely behind him. When he entered, the first thing he noticed was that his soldiers were, quite curiously, keeping their distance from the small handful of bandits huddled in the corner. Perhaps the strays had bitten the hand that fed them one too many times—Jack could certainly tell from the looks of distrust and unchecked terror in the eyes of the bandits that they looked like savage animals, despite missing the foaming jowls or whatever else defined an animal that needed to promptly be put down. Jack couldn’t say he was one to frequent skag fighting rings.

“Sir,” A soldier spoke firmly from behind Jack, somewhere off to his right. In response, Jack cocked his head, a low hum in his throat—his eyes never left the offending image across the room, studying the object of his recent frustrations. “Some of them escaped, unfortunately. We retrieved the supplies their group was trying to steal; mostly, mechanical bits and pieces that had been torn from a group of HOT loader bots returning to their outpost.”

Jack’s eyes darted to the side, but when he wasn’t greeted with an image of the man speaking, he returned them to the bandits, a scowl deepening in his well-worn features. Fucking _ loader bots_, of all fucking things. The bandits might as well have come up to his front door and asked for a fucking cup of milk or sugar.

“I want all of you out, now. _ Now! _”

≡

Fortunately for Jack, getting what he wanted wasn’t all that difficult what with where he stood in his company. The soldiers started with a fright, scrambling for the door. The last one hesitated but eventually closed the door behind herself, locking Jack in with the small group of rebels that had the _ guts _ to defy _ him_, Handsome fucking Jack.

“Line up.”

Jack waited, but when the group of revolts didn’t move from the spot they had been frozen to since he had entered, he roared the command again, spittle flying. This time, the bandits began to move; slowly, like an old machine that hadn’t been oiled in years, they moved as one, until Jack could make out three individuals. A short, balding man in a worn sweater and jeans who couldn’t keep his eyes from darting around, studying every single particle in the holding cell for no longer than a few moments. His energy was contagious, and just watching him made Jack want to check over his shoulder.

After him, a short, blonde woman in a patchy dress, with boots that appeared much too large for her—she seemed much more confident than the other two members of the group, pleasantly blue eyes staring at Jack defiantly. Her expression made the corner of Jack’s mouth twitch up in a lopsided sneer. Perhaps she was the leader of this ugly little family of renegades. He’d have to watch her more carefully to determine her role for certain.

Finally, to the right of the sassy looking blonde, a much taller woman with red hair stood in faded, tattered jeans and an Atlas t-shirt. _ Ever heard of a good Atlas gun, pumpkin? No? Well, there’s a god damned reason why. _ Jack rolled his eyes as he casually pulled his _ Hyperion _ pistol from between the small of his back and the tight belted waistband of his pants.

“Friends, family, all of the above,” Jack started slowly, dramatically winding up for the sarcasm that leaked from his gruff voice as he took his first steps forward, eyes raking over the group before him. “Why on Pandora would you ever… _ ever _ try to rob from _ me _? I mean, obviously, unless you’ve all got death wishes you can’t take care of yourselves?” He rolled his wrist, the gun moving with the movement so the barrel swung in various directions, making the nervous man to the far left jolt in shock. The middle woman shot a warning look at him as subtly as she could, but Jack caught it, his eyes widening as he took another step forward.

The Hyperion president stopped short of the pair, completely ignoring the redhead now. “Oh, is this your bitch?” He addressed the girl, cocking his head when the man flinched at his crude language. The de facto captain of the group just glared up at Jack, her eyes ablaze in her defiance. _ That kind of woman, huh? Can’t say I hate ‘em… _ Slapping the handle of his pistol between his thigh and palm, Jack tilted his head back, exhaling slowly.

“Well,” He drawled at an aching pace, casually stretching his neck before looking back down at the group, “If he ain’t your bitch, he can be mine.”

As if it meant nothing to him, Jack extended his right arm, pistol in hand, and pressed the mouth of the barrel to his new friend’s forehead, grinning when the fear in the portly man’s eyes evolved into a much wilder expression of desperation. He didn’t waste his time studying it—with hardly a practiced twitch of his finger against the trigger, a violent burst of three bullets were forced out of the chamber and directly into the bandit’s skull, spattering the gray wall behind him with bloody brain matter. The empty casings clattered to the floor, one rolling into a hole that had been worn into the concrete over the years.

“Shit, _ hah! _ He really did pop like a pimple! Why didn’t I do that sooner?! Why didn't _ you guys _ do it sooner?” Jack’s laughter almost drowned out the scream from the woman to his far-right as well as the shriek that came from the other. It didn't ruin his mood immediately, but when no other laughter joined his, he straightened up, a snake poised to strike.

“Okay, okayokayokay. Let's not skip our pleasantries. Your name, bandit.”

Both women were shaking, but the blonde was clearly trying to hide her fear with significantly more success than the redhead. Jack tapped his boot against the concrete floor, his amusement further faltering when he wasn’t given an immediate response. He could’ve been more patient, but why wouldn’t they just _ listen _ to him? He was the one with the gun! Scowling, Jack held out the soiled gun once more, this time aimed loosely at the woman he’d shown little interest in thus far.

“I asked for your _ name_, cupcake.”

Jack was staring at the woman he hadn’t trapped in the gaze of his pistol, eyes studying her expression for some sort of answer that he hadn’t yet gotten verbally. Honestly, this was all becoming such a burden, he’d be better off just k—

“... A–Annabelle.”

Annabelle, huh? Jack felt the synthetic material of his mask twitch as he pulled the trigger. What a beautiful name.

≡

There was something incontrovertibly erotic about being covered in the blood of your enemies; this was something he had learned years and years ago, so it had rarely been news to Jack to feel his own blood rush in eager glee to various locations within his body in newfound fervor. He didn't bother looking down at the crumpled bodies of the two bandits that had thought ill of him just days before as he makes quiet, soothing sounds in the nearly silent room. They never truly concerned him—just provided a convenient way to release some pent up emotions that he’d never been very successful at healthily expressing.

“There, there, pumpkin,” Jack crooned, reaching out with his clean, unburdened hand to catch Annabelle’s shoulder and draw her closer. Her body stiffened at the touch, and Jack found himself resisting the urge to scowl. He was being so kind—how could she be so _ ungrateful _? “It’s alright. I know you want to thank good ol’ Handsome Jack for taking the trouble of those two off your hands, right Annabelle?”

The sound of her name on his serpentine tongue made her flinch; Jack smirked, fingers digging against her shoulder as he took a deep breath, lungs inflated and pushing his wide chest against her more petite frame. “You’re in luck, dear _ Annie_, I have just the thing!” The pistol in his hand was covered in blood, flecks of gore and even bone peeking from the drying gristle. Casually, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, Jack dragged the object over his pants, working the majority of the cartilaginous material from his gun. He’d have to make one of his employees clean it properly later; there was nothing sexy about coagulated blood hanging around on his personal objects longer than it took to fuck out the carnal need it evoked.

“You see, all these inconveniencing barges of my convoys has made my personal time very sparse, which means I can’t attend to certain _ urges _ I might have at the end of the day. You seem like you really could help me out with that. I could even offer you the best prize of all if you agree: your life. How's about it, doll?”

Jack slowly tucked his gun back in the safety of his waistband, bright eyes leisurely looking her up and down as a lion would an injured gazelle. This was fair—he didn't force her to try her hand at stealing from him. No, he had her right where he liked them, and it was all her doing. 

“You get me to blow my load, and I won’t blow your head off. In fact, I’ll even let you go back to whatever piss ants you have left in your little group.”

≡

Annabelle hadn’t felt in control of the situation for some time.

When Jack had all but blown off Enrique’s head, that was when she _ first _ wondered if she had any chance of getting out of this predicament alive. After Leigh, she’d already found herself on the brink of exhaustion from desperately searching for any possible escape in the room. And now, here was the president and CEO of Hyperion, coming onto her in exchange for her life? Annie had to bite her lip so she didn’t laugh out loud. This was fucked. So, _ so _ fucking _ fucked_. She wanted to scream, she wanted to tear that gun from Jack’s hand and press it into the curve where his neck and chest met and pull the trigger until there was nothing left to empty into his wicked shell of a body—because certainly, there was nothing worth a _ damn _ inside it.

The fact that the situation was time sensitive wasn’t lost on her at any point, but that didn’t make it any easier to respond in a timely manner. Perhaps the expression on her face bought her some time; Jack’s hand had begun stroking her waist absently while her mind fruitlessly scrambled to grasp the situation. By the time she managed to squeak out some sort of reply, he had melded his palm against the curve of her back, further solidifying the fact that she was _ definitely _ not making it out of here without losing something, be it her dignity or life.

“What… what would I have to do?” Annabelle stuttered when the lump in her throat refused to make room for her uncertain voice. With a reluctant inhalation, she swallowed the tightness, none too pleased when her words continued to quiver in the face of Hyperion’s beloved psychopath.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you, cupcake?” The sound of Jack’s sneer was like nails on a chalkboard to Annabelle, causing her to shrink further away from him. Unfortunately, the hand at the small of her back held her in place. Seemingly pleased by her attempt to flee, Jack caught her left hip in his free hand, squeezing to emphasize the disheartening dynamic he had created for them. 

Annie blinked. Before she could insist that she truly _ did _ know what Jack wanted, he shoved his entire weight against her hip, manipulating her body the instant her balance faltered. With a cry of surprise, Annabelle caught herself with hardly a moment to spare, fingers splayed out against the bricks littered with mold and mildew and god knows what else. 

“It’s simple, sweetheart.”

_ Oh, fuck. _

Jack was behind her now—his hands mapping the curves her fragmentary dress allowed him to find—with his breath suddenly on her mind as the hot and sticky air escaping his lungs lapped against her exposed neck. If she wished for anything right now, it’d be that she didn’t put her hair up so many hours ago. 

“I’m going to fuck you. I certainly hope you’re a decent lay… I don’t think bargaining with your life is a very good idea, hmm? Then again, I’ve never been in such a situation. Funny how these sorts of things happen, dont’cha think Annie?”

Annabelle bit back a whimper when a foreign hand brushed over her chest, settling over one breast to give it an appreciative squeeze. His hands on her body didn’t feel good. No, no—it was like being felt up by some lumbering, drooling idiot. Right? Annie squeezed her eyes shut, afraid that if she stared at the disgusting wall any longer, she was going to vomit.

It was a certainty, she thought in recoiling disgust, that if she spent any more time acknowledging the nearly insignificant flame that had begun to burn between her legs, that she would be in a worse off place than just losing her lunch.

≡

In the time it took Jack to push up her dress and pull aside her panties to allow himself access to the warmth hidden away, Annabelle had to push away unwelcome twisted thoughts twice more. Once was when terror and arousal coiled together and rushed through her core all at once, the violent response arising when Jack shifted and pressed his clothed erection against her backside. It hardly seemed beneficial to him and Annie wondered if it was more of a power move on his part to further assert his dominance, rather than an attempt to gain more stimulation. The idea made her blanch. Really, was there any more reason to make it painfully apparent to the quivering bandit that she was completely at his mercy now?

The second time her mind wandered towards a round of insipid ideas occurred when Jack let out a surprisingly breathless noise from behind her shoulder, hips grinding down against her ass. For a fraction of a second, she almost felt bad for him—it seemed like it had been quite some time since he’d found some relief in regards to his sexual desires—but then she remembered what he had just done to her friends, her _ family_. Finding a reserve of energy that had been hidden away just before their raid, Annabelle writhed in Jack’s grasp, grunting when she was only made to be more intimate with the wall.

“Now, now,” Jack cooed, taking the opportunity to stroke along her slit, forefinger dipping deeper to tease the entrance of her cunt, “Don’t make this any harder for either of us, pumpkin. I can make it fun for you, if you want it to be.”

_ I don’t– _ none _ of this is fun, you fucking psycho, you’re a monster. I’d rather— _

Annie slammed her forearm against the wall when Jack’s finger unceremoniously pushed inside her with hardly a shred of resistance. _ Oh, God, am I wet? I can’t be. I can’t–... _ She could practically _ hear _ Jack smirking behind her, a flash of his infuriatingly perfect teeth near the soft, exposed curve of her neck.

It'd be a waste of time to hope her assailant wouldn't point out her body's betrayal even if Annabelle had all the time in the world as she quivered beneath Jack's imposing weight. He had leaned over her back at some point, chest meeting her shoulders as he inhaled deeply, consuming her scent in an obscene way that made her heart beat faster than it had since the gun was in his hand.

Annabelle was willing to accept that as the least of her worries right up until she felt Jack's hand retreat from between her legs, the undeniable sound of a starving predator testing the air with an experimental sniff. The sound of his voice rang in her ears for far longer than she was comfortable acknowledging.

_ You smell absolutely fantastic, cupcake. _

She hated that her pussy responded in unbridled delight.

≡

Even through tears of indignation and attempts to hide the rising call of her shallow breathing, Annabelle subconsciously acknowledged every change in abuse: the return of Jack’s—now saliva-coated—fingers, the none-too-gentle violation of her sex as he added one, two, then finally three fingers, the girth of his digits uncanny in resemblance to a cock. The energy she had wisely reserved for scenarios such as this was quickly dissipating into nothing. 

No, not nothing. She _ wasn’t _hating it anymore. It was hard to tell if it was due to giving up her will to fight back, or if her body was legitimately lapping up every droplet of attention Hyperion’s CEO was giving her, but either way, the fact still disgusted her.

Disgusted her enough to shut down? Hardly.

Arching her back against her better judgment, Annabelle hissed through her teeth, encouraging Jack to search a little deeper within her. She could hear a breathless chuckle behind her; she wanted to ignore how it made his cock bob against her exposed ass.

“You’re doing so well now, pumpkin. It must feel really good, but hardly as good as it _ could _ feel…” Ah, _ there _—again, Jack’s fat, twitching cock brushed over the curve of her ass and Annie shuddered as she bit back a moan of unchecked desire. Part of her wished she hadn’t—she’d been making her need known against the palm of her “lover” for an embarrassing amount of time now. The other part of her acknowledged that it was doubtful a bit of vocalization now would truly matter now.

“You want more,” came the voice behind her, suddenly dark and controlled and _ oh, _so sexy, she could hardly stand it. It was as if Jack was reading her mind, but also giving her the slightest room to resist if she had any inclination to. When she turned her head slightly, blue eyes just barely able to make out the forested shade of Jack’s visible eye, she nodded, bottom lip caught against her teeth as she gingerly pushed back on the hand fingering her wet pussy. “Good girl. Was that so hard?” He grinned, flashing those perfect teeth again.

Annabelle caught herself wondering what it would feel like to have them sinking into the pert flesh of her breast.

Before she could bring herself back to reality, Jack backed away from her petite form, pleased to push his cock into a fist slick with Annie’s arousal. The natural lubricant made goosebumps rise over his arms as Jack groaned, rubbing the pad of his thumb against his sensitive cockhead. He’d been patient up until this point, making sure it wouldn’t be like fucking a paper towel core lined with sandpaper, but he could feel himself coming undone at the seams with impatience.

“Now,” Jack grunted, pushing roughly at Annabelle’s shoulders to gain better access to her backside, “Here comes the _ real _ fun.”

≡

Claiming it was a tight fit would be an understatement. The tension returned in the room as Jack eased himself closer against Annie, gradually urging his cock deeper with each of his slow, calculated breaths. It felt like an eternity, a curious limbo that allowed no escape. Annabelle wanted to decide if she loved or hated it, but when Jack let out a short, breathless chuckle over her shoulder, she found herself turning to face him the best she could, searching his mismatched eye for some sort of answer to his amusement.

Of course, it was nothing in which she would find humor.

“You’re so damn _ tight_, sweetcheeks. I thought bandit whores would feel looser than this, but boy, was I wrong. _ Hah._ Imagine that— _ me_, being wrong. I guess it does happen every once in a while.”

Annabelle let out a quivering whimper beneath the sound of Jack’s words. He had pulled out enough to drive his prick back inside her during whatever rambling monologue he’d wasted his breath on, and was now fucking her properly, albeit without a completely satisfying rhythm yet; it felt _ good_, despite everything her mind was telling her, and she… she wanted more.

“You know,” Jack started again, dropping a hand to her hip while the other fisted a handful of her swept-back hair, “I was just going to kill you, originally. I really was.” _ Thrust. _ Annabelle pushed her forehead against the wall, completely forgetting how disgusting she found its appearance just minutes ago. “I was thinking, this bitch? She’s got _ nothing _ I want. But, fuck, this feels good. Doesn’t it, Annie, sweetie?” Yanking hard on her hair, Jack grinned when he coaxed a yelp of pain from the bandit he was six inches deep inside.

Something inside her told her to, so she spoke.

“Yes,” She gasped quietly, not enough of a slave to the pleasure to cry out her agreement any louder. She held herself still for a moment longer, then let out another soft sound, grinding back so Jack’s cock penetrated her deeper. If she could just stroke his ego in _ just _ the right way, then maybe… Maybe…

“... B–... but, you could feel so much _ better _ if you just,” Annabelle bit down on her tongue, clenching around the steady thrusting that was his thick prick, trying not to roll her eyes in pleasure when it brushed against her g-spot. “If you just _ lost _ yourself a little.”

It was a mix of a challenge and a swift stroke of his ego; when something slammed up against her backside and he plunged roughly into her pussy, she knew she had worked _ just _ the right reaction from him. Unable to keep herself quiet, Annie groaned out a curse, hissing when Jack’s immediate response was to twist his grip in her hair. _ Fuck_, he was rough.

But truly, what did she expect from a man who murdered her friends not hours ago?

Jack slammed Annabelle forcefully against the wall as the blood in her veins turned to ice, crushing her arms beneath both their weight as he continued to rut an erratic rhythm against her ass. His cock was beyond adequately slick now and she twitched when she realized he hadn’t once missed her cunt with his rushed thrusts, even with his obvious pent up need. That was… _ really _ fucking hot.

Annabelle tried not to think about how it seemed as if his throbbing cock was meant to be inside her, pushing, thrusting, _ fucking _her.

“Don’t tell me how to do this, or _ anything_, sweetcheeks. I’m still packing, and last I checked, you’re not.”

It was impossible not to moan when the adrenaline from the hanging threat rushed over her, sending sparks of excitement to her clit. She wanted to give him attitude, to see what other erotic responses her body would have when he threatened her more, but suddenly, Jack was twisting his hips away, right up until his cock popped out of the tightening, protesting heat of her sex.

“Wh–,” Annie started, feeling an unpleasant thrill of dismay run down her spine, but Jack was already pressing his slick cock back up against her.

_ Oh, no. I can’t– not… _

“The real prize? Not your cunt. No, princess. It’s here.” The hand that had been shoving Annabelle down so he could manipulate her was cupping the generous flesh of her ass now, fingers digging into the fat as he pulled a cheek to the side and revealed her tight hole. “Blood doesn’t make very good lube. I found that out _ yeaaaars _ ago. Only made that mistake a few more times before I wisened up. Hmm?”

When Annabelle didn’t respond immediately to the return of his incessant rambling, he jerked his fist, yanking on her hair one last time before letting go to opt for cradling the familiar weight of his cock. A few teasing strokes were all he gave himself in preparation as he lined himself up with a gruff sigh.

“I hope you’re as tight as I imagined,” Jack murmured in a tone so soft, it hardly seemed to belong to him, a precursor to forcing the head of his cock inside the captured bandit’s tight heat. She clenched around him in a way that couldn’t even begin to compare to the encompassing warmth of her cunt, encouraging a hiss of mixed origin from his well-used larynx. “_ Shit_, yeah… Yeah, baby, that's it…"

Whimpering with the forced intrusion, Annie swallowed back any other cries of discomfort as Jack worked his dick deeper in her ass, knowing that he wouldn’t care how it felt for her as long as _ he _ felt good—and if his breathing gradually growing more and more ragged was any inclination to how it felt, there was little hope she’d be receiving any other treatment. 

_ Fuck_, though, she had forgotten how good it felt to be fucked in the ass after the initial unbearable tightness, and Jack wasted no time reaching the point where he could drive his prick deeply without restraint. Occasionally, he ground against a spot that made aftershocks of pleasure quake throughout her body; Annabelle didn’t want to see the expression Jack would be making if he was paying attention to her body.

Fortunately for her, his mind was elsewhere. Feeling his orgasm approaching far quicker than he would’ve anticipated, Jack dug his blunt nails into the subtle curve of her hips, humping his pliant prisoner with an increasing lack of control. His eyelids were drawn low, hiding all but a sliver of the blue and green of his irises, while his teeth held his paling lip in a snarling embrace. It was hard to tell when the resentment of being anally raped morphed into some sick pleasure for Annie, but she didn’t really want to pinpoint the exact moment. Something about the entire ordeal made her feel sick, and she remembered the ill-feeling she felt at the beginning of all this. She wondered if she’d ever feel an emotion that didn’t have baggage or complicated undertones ever again after this. It didn’t feel possible anymore.

Twisting her expression into something akin to crude amusement, she had to remind herself that surviving and escaping Handsome Jack’s grasp was the first thing on her to-do list. Leading a somewhat normal life after all of this could be a secondary concern.

With that thought, Annie managed to stay nearly silent as Jack worked himself to the very cliff of his climax, the occasional moan or gasp the only vocal reminders he was gifted from her. Clearly, it didn’t bother him all that much—with a snarling growl and two, three, _ fuck_, four wild thrusts of his hips, pleasantly stirring her insides with his cock, Jack came. He weakly pounded against her backside a few more times before he stilled all movement, eyes screwed shut while the waves of pleasure that accompanied his orgasm washed over him, lulling him into a post-coital bliss that could compete with very few luxuries in life.

And as quick as he began to milk his cock with her ass, he was finished, pushing himself off of her in what Annie could only imagine was disgust. His cock left with him, of course, and left her asshole agape, a questionable liquid mixture threatening to spill out as she fell to her knees, hands grinding in the musty filth that coated the concrete. There was a clatter of metal, clothes shifting over skin, but Annie didn’t turn to see what Jack was doing behind her—it didn't seem all that important after what he had done thus far.

“You’re a decent fuck, babe. Not enough for a second round, but, y’know, it was alright. Took care of what I needed for the time being… Oh, yes—boys,” Jack raised his voice, turning towards the door as one hand buttoned his pants while the other twisted in a dismissive manner toward the sole abused bandit. “Your turn.”

Annabelle closed her eyes as the imposing silhouettes of Hyperion soldiers approached her quivering, crumpled form, wondering when her ass would stop clenching around the mixture of warm cum and slick inside her, missing the feeling of his cock filling her up.

As the hulking door creaked shut behind Jack, leaving her in the hands of his starving pack of hyenas, she wondered if he'd come to see her one last time before they let her go.

If, that is, they let her go.


End file.
